A Game of My Own
by trollvinter
Summary: Zep’s point of view prior to Saw. Rated T for language.


A/N I have nothing against Dr. Gordon, I like him! But this fic is Zep's POV, and as you well know, he wasn't very fond of Lawrence:)

Disclaimer: Don't own anything.

A Game of My Own

I woke up with a start and found myself lying on the bed in my apartment. It was black as hell in there, and my thoughts were as black as my despair. I lay examining closely my own state. I felt neither pain nor sickness – I felt nothing at all. Nevertheless, I could think about nothing but the slow-acting poison which had already begun its destructive work. I almost felt it coursing and throbbing in my veins. I couldn't help but groan despairingly.

I fumbled for the bedside lamp and turned it on. Then I dragged myself to the washroom, turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face expecting it would refresh me a little. It didn't.

I returned to my room, sat down on the bed and pressed my palms to my temples struggling to concentrate. Snatches of thoughts were running through my mind: "Why me? How could it happen to me?"

I was reflecting on what I had to do. I wasn't sure I would manage to pass the test, much less to take lives of others to save myself. I wasn't sure of anything. Maybe I had only a few hours left to live.

I wished it was only a bad dream - but there were a gun and a tape recorder on my nightstand, and these little things looked pretty real.

Fuck…

I reached out for the tape recorder and played it once again. A distorted voice pronounced the words I'd already learned by heart:

"_Hello, Mr. Hindle...or as they called you around the hospital: Zep. I want you to make a choice. There's a slow-acting poison coursing through your system...that only I have the antidote for. Will you murder a mother and her child to save yourself? Listen carefully, if you will. There are rules…"_

I couldn't help but grin.

The irony was that I sometimes thought about killing Lawrence Gordon. I didn't remember exactly when this idea had come to my mind. I guessed it was only my obsession – I highly doubted whether I could kill anybody, though this dream pleased me.

Doctor Lawrence Gordon, a brilliant oncologist, handsome, rich, and loved by everybody. In truth, he was just an arrogant asshole. Was I really jealous of him? I didn't think so, but his arrogance made me sick. His whole look seemed to say "You poor losers!" He posed as an angel, although all the guys who worked at the hospital knew about Lawrence's love affairs. He cheated on his wife flirting with his interns and screwing around. Surely he had an affair with at least one woman - but who cared? Lawrence had everything he wanted and obviously, he thought it was quite natural.

Goddammit, Larry! So many times I caught myself at thinking that it would be nice to see him suffering. I guessed I wasn't a wicked person, but I really hated his scornful looks and condescending smiles he gave me when I met him in the hospital hall or in a ward. I hated his nasty remarks and sarcastic words he said to my face or behind my back. Sometimes I wished to put a bullet right in Dr. Gordon's shining face. This thought was so vivid that I shook and my fingers tightened on an imaginary trigger. I didn't show my feelings though. I only cursed to myself avoiding eye contact with him. But I hoped that some day I would dare look straight in his eyes and tell him that he was fuckin' wrong.

Of course, nobody knew about my thoughts. Nobody, except John Kramer.

John, the only person I could trust. He was Dr. Gordon's patient and receiving treatment for his cancer. Well, Lawrence called it "a treatment", but in fact, John only received painkillers and antidepressants – that was all. Lawrence cared so little for him insisting that it was a hopeless case. Lawrence wasn't interested in John Kramer as a person, but obviously, he was interested in his inoperable brain tumor. Once I encountered him in John's ward. He was at the head of a group of medical students who stared at John sleeping while Lawrence was showing them the X-rays of John's tumor and telling with enthusiasm about terminal cancers. Lawrence might have found this case very interesting. He regarded John as a case, a subject…a guinea pig, I could say. Goddam Dr. Gordon! Ever since my hatred of him had become far stronger than before.

I tried to comfort John. He enjoyed my company, so we spent hours together.

I confided to him my inmost thoughts and feelings. I told him about my hate towards Lawrence and my secret thoughts of killing him… and also I confessed that I longed for a change in my empty, miserable life.

He listened to me very attentively and smiled. I loved his smile…nothing in common with Lawrence's little smirk.

I missed him since he had been discharged from hospital. I wished he was here – oh, I did need him right now. I did need his advice. He would certainly find a way out. But John was far away from me, so following the rules was the only thing to do.

I sat holding the tape recorder in my hand and listening to the voice which seemed strangely familiar.

Tonight I had a chance to get even with Lawrence and make his shining smile fade forever - but I wasn't sure I really wanted this. Strangely enough, I didn't hate him any longer. Anyway, I had no choice.

I glanced at the clock – it was time to go. I put on my jacket and took the gun from the nightstand. My whole life was a series of failures, a long train of failures. But I would try not to fail tonight.


End file.
